Gravity
by DevouredReaper
Summary: Aliens, space thieves. All that fun stuff. Possible language warning and violence
1. Chapter 1

Incessant beeping- honestly, he'd rather describe it as _screeching_ , even if that wasn't exactly what it was. It was a sound meant to pull him from sleep entirely too early.

If Alistair wasn't aware that he needed to make sure Arthur was up and off for school he wouldn't have even gotten up.

As it were, the red head groaned, turned off the alarm- or he thought he did, green eyes narrowing at the display before propping himself up to examine the clock. Why had Arthur decided getting him a new one was a good idea. Alistair huffed, finally turned the alarm off before getting himself to a seated position, disentangling his legs from the sheets pooled around his lower half.

He stood, scratched his head as he padded out to find the kitchen. From what he could tell from the silence, Arthur wasn't awake yet. It should happen soon. If not, he would have to go wake him. That should be fun.

Alistair made a face, scanned the kitchen before moving toward the coffee maker- of course, his brother preferred tea and in all honesty, he usually did as well. With the hour, however, at _least_ a cup of coffee was required. Especially if he was to be dealing with rude customers at the shop. Really, it was never his fault the parts for repair tended to run high. Most vehicles- whether made for travel between planets or merely to get around Usainor- required parts with delicate structure, engine pieces made _just so_ that the entire heap of metal would actually fly.

He huffed, shook his head before taking note of quiet footsteps approaching the kitchen. The red head turned, raised a brow at Arthur, still clad in pajamas- not like he himself had not dressed for the day yet. "Sleep well?" A grunt was received in response, the blond plopping into a seat at their small table. Alistair gave an amused sound, ran a hand through his hair before moving to get down a pair of cups- one for coffee, one for juice. Or milk, or whatever Arthur wanted this morning. "Aye, gettin' up early isn't fun. A sad necessity." The cups were placed down on the counter, green eyes scanning the room again while he tried to figure out something for food.

"Just fix some eggs and toast." It was a barely heard mumble, Alistair raising a brow before looking back at the other.

"You sure?" A nod, the younger letting out a yawn before folding his arms over the table, placing his head on them. The ghost of a smile played across Alistair's features, watching his brother express the fact that he was tired before the red head poured a glass of juice for him. "From that... Colorful vendor 'round the corner. Not sure what's in it, but it's definitely not just oranges." It was also at that point he realized he didn't get the eggs out, retrieving them as he put the juice away.

A pan was procured from one of the cabinets, though Alistair paused when Arthur spoke again, furrowed his brow before glancing back. "What?" An irritated exhale of breath accompanied by the sound of the glass being put back on the table.

"Strawberry." The red head gave a nod, humming before returning to his task of frying some eggs.

"Interestin'." Really, he wasn't concerned. It was likely Arthur knew that as well.

It wasn't long before the room smelled of eggs and coffee, Arthur having long since gotten distracted watching the way his brother's birthmarks moved as he did- some having delicate, looping lines, and others thicker, sharper. He was almost disappointed he didn't have any. Apparently that was a possibility when one parent wasn't Caletonyic, according to both Alistair and everything Arthur had read on the subject. Alistair never answered whether or not it actually hurt to tap into the strength those marks apparently signified. He needed that information for _important research._ Most articles were outdated by now and definitely needed to be rewritten. Who better to ask than one who was actually from Caleton?

The blond was pulled from his thoughts when a plate was set in front of him, taking note of the grin on the elders face. "Shut it." He huffed, picked up his fork to poke at his food.

"I didn't say anythin'." There soon was jam placed on the table, a sigh from Alistair as he settled into the other seat. "Doin' anythin' after classes today?" The question was almost muffled by egg, Arthur raising a brow at the other. Here was the one who reminded him throughout childhood not to talk with his mouth full talking with _his_ mouth full. Jeez. Still, the blond gave a shrug, lowered his gaze to his plate.

"I don't know yet. Probably not, considering actually studying and doing the work is important." There was a grunt from the other, the sound of a hot beverage being carefully sipped.

"You could still make some friends, lad. Not everythin' is about studies." Arthur raised his gaze toward his brother.

"Like you have made friends?" Annoyance settled on the elders face, chewing slowed before a fork was pointed at him.

"I'm actually busy tryin' to keep things paid so you don't have to worry about it." Arthur scoffed, raised his glass for a drink.

"Like that's any better." A growl was recieved in response, Alistair not bothering with a response, opting to finish his food.

"Finish your food. Still need to get dressed and headed out." Of course he wouldn't talk about it.

Alistair squinted at his phone when it rang, pausing outside his room to check the ID. Erzsébet. He sighed, put the phone to his ear before continuing toward the living room. "Aye?" Like he didn't already know it was something _'work'_ related.

"We have a new commission." He grunted, switched to Caletonic for the remainder of the conversation when he took note of Arthur getting ready to leave.

The blond furrowed his brow, watched the other. "Is there a reason for not speaking English?" He watched the other shift his phone away before responding.

"Crew member. She hasn't learnt it yet." Arthur nodded slowly, returned to shrugging on his jacket.

"All right."

"I'm goin' to have to make a few deliveries." Green eyes slid over, staring at the elder. He really should be suspicious, but if he asked, Alistair would say he was taking parts to other shops. He'd tried prying an answer before.

"Don't take long." A smile from the elder.

"Can try not to." It was easy to lose track of time while out there. Alistair heard a scoff from the other end of the line- he could just imagine Erzsébet rolling her eyes. _Not my fault I don't want Arthur to know more than he needs to._

Alistair watched his brother leave before going to find his things. He would have to stop by the shop to inform his boss that he had something to do, but that wouldn't take long.

With his boots slid on, the red head went to leave as well, starting for the mechanic shop where he worked.


	2. Chapter 2

Alistair strode to the lot where his ship was parked, finished tying his bandanna around his head as the few crew members came into sight.  
Though that meant he was now able to be seen, as evidenced by the fact that- after barking another order- Erzsébet began to stride over. He really should try once more to convince her that really, no one off Caleton cared about their marks. They only told others that they were Caletonyic, held no _significance_ to anyone else.  
For them, the markings gave a sense of belonging, an easy way to distinguish a family. A connection to a deity one might not actually believe in, yet will thank when one didn't burn from the inside out. A _purpose_.

Alistair came to a stop, lowering his hands as Erzsébet closed the distance, raising a brow at her shorts and cropped top. However, before he could make a comment, her fist connected with his shoulder. Despite being barely fazed, he blinked, fell back a step. "What?" A scoff, the brunette brushing hair behind her shoulder.  
" _Only speaks Caletonic_ my ass." Alistair narrowed his eyes, withheld a growl.  
"Brother doesn't need to know any more than necessary." He wasn't in the mood to argue the point, instead stepping by the brunette and toward the ship. "Is everythin' loaded?"  
"Almost. Box of supplies and we can go."  
Erzsébet wanted to press the issue, make the red head explain what he did to this brother so he'd know why Alistair was often gone months at a time.

Instead, she now watched the red head nod, duck through the door and head for the cockpit. She sighed, shook her head before turning to snap at the two other crew members to get on. With that, she followed Alistair, dropped into the driver seat. "Also have to pick something up by Matain. Bastion specifically, if I remember correctly."  
"Got it." It was a mutter, Alistair already plotting a course. She almost rolled her eyes. _Such a difficult man_.

"Everyone settled?" Green eyes glanced back, Erzsébet making sure the other two were sitting at least before returning her attention to the dash.  
"Aye." She didn't see the nod in response, busying herself with settling back and fastening in, at least for the launch. Erzsébet scanned the buttons, let out a hum as she turned the engine on, settled back and took hold of the crescent wheel.

"And we're off." A smirk appeared on her features, soon falling as she focused on navigating around the buildings- really, _why_ did they even park here? Though once in free space, the vehicle was angled up, a steady ascent to the stars. She sometimes wished there were more windows in order to watch the stars go by, the occasional meteor, planet. Alistair didn't think the vastness of the domain was that interesting- she really couldn't blame him, the red head _did_ often pilot through the darkness. The unbroken scenery of space would quickly become boring. Perhaps she really did prefer handling taking off and landing.

Once they were steady, Erzsébet unfastened, swiveled the chair to stand. "Here you go. I'm going to make sure nothing came came loose." Alistair nodded, got out of the seat he'd been in to take the vacated pilot position.  
"Should get into trousers at least while you're at it." He heard an exasperated exhale, raised a brow at the faint reflection in front of him. "Save time when we get there." He didn't have to try and make out her rolling her eyes to know it was done before the brunette walked away, turning his focus on the empty space in front of him. He would have to wait for her to sit down again before activating the hyper drive, though the destination wasn't far- all things considered. Halfway down the system- all right, Caleton was closer to Usainor, but that was beside the point. Serfine was _definitely_ far, especially around this time. At the end of the system, no one really went for a visit- to his knowledge- until its orbit brought it closer. Though it was certainly worth a fly past, if only to see the rings that surrounded it. If they weren't going out that way, however, Alistair wasn't going to bother. The sooner he managed to get back home the better.

* * *

Two pairs of boot clad feet echoed faintly off the walls, the men they belonged to otherwise silent as they approached a meeting chamber. The voices of those already in the room became apparent when the door slid open, transparent substance darkening when it closed again. "Braginsky." Ivan nodded at the simple greeting, taking a seat at the end of the table.

"Hello." The younger male who had been with him took a standing position at a near angle behind the chair, hands clasped behind his back. Ivan placed his elbows on the table, intertwined his fingers under his chin as his gaze scanned those present. Some seemed nervous, a couple glancing at the other blond- Mikita _did_ tend to look intimidating. Must be a family thing- others at the opposite side of the table were still arguing about the string of thefts. He didn't care enough to listen right now, turning his attention to the projection of video footage in the center of the surface. All loops appeared to show the same figure, equipped with mostly the same items.  
He let out a hum, watched the footage loop through twice more before returning his attention to those seated around him. "Do we have any idea where he might be stealing next?" The hum of machines was now apparent in the silence. It seemed as if not everyone had noticed his arrival.

"Not for sure." _Of course._ Ivan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead let his attention be drawn to someone who was tapping at a keyboard on the table.  
"Likely though, it'll be one of these objects, based on both prior patterns and current events surrounding the owners of these items." Purple eyes flicked to the hologram, sliding over the things now shown.  
"Certainly look like things that would catch the attention of a thief." He wasn't sure who the owners were, nor was he sure he really cared why whatever had happened would factor in. Unless of course, they were suspecting the figure was working _for_ someone. Though considering it was brought up, it was likely they did. "We will place a few guards on all of them." The decision interrupted a ramble of the current events, Ivan turning to address Mikita before a reaction was initiated.  
"I don't think your force has enough members- not to be rude- for all to be covered." He noticed his right hand man raise a brow before turning back to the conversation.

Ivan offered a smile. "I am _perfectly_ capable of field work, Zell."


	3. Chapter 3

Silence.

The one thing he had learned early on that would help keep him out of trouble while ' _working.'_

A quiet padding through the halls, looking for the room that held what he was hired to retrieve.

The only sound currently heard floating over from whatever event the owner of the venue- or person renting it? Hell if he knew or cared. His job was to get in, grab what he needed, and get out without being seen.

Music.  
Voices.  
Shuffling- feet, chairs.  
Glasses clinking.

Alistair paused, crouched, strained to discern whether someone was coming down the hall. Of course, he was able to handle anyone who might cross his path- and he would have to if someone _was_ in this particular hall- he would just rather not if he didn't have to. Risk drawing attention? No.

Not to mention, if he took too long he would be left to find his way back to Usainor on his own. And ships didn't always go where one was hoping for, making stowing away unreliable.

As it happened, the footsteps came from the end of the hall in front of him- a servant passing through who looked _suspiciously_ like a certain member of the intergalactic police- rose in volume, thudded across wood flooring, passed the opening of the hall Alistair was in. A breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding had been released, Alistair glanced behind him before standing, advancing to the corner where the pale blond he saw moments ago had come from. Another glance around, and the thief was off to his left, further away from the ballroom.

 _There should be a flight of stairs somewhere around here._

* * *

"This has got to be the most difficult mission ever." The comment was accompanied by a huff from a man with red eyes, gaze scanning the room. A snort coming from his companion, an arm slung over his shoulders- not the only thing taking his attention from the crowd.

" _You_ were the one who decided going after this particular bounty was a good idea, Gil." The blond offered a cup of frosted liquid, a grin- caught a flash of black when his friend's sleeve shifted as he reached to take the cup, the mark standing stark against his pale skin.

"Yeah, yeah." Gilbert moved the cup into his other hand, carefully lifted the object to take a drink- and promptly began to cough. His free hand was raised, head turned from his friend. "What is this?" Despite how delicate the drink appeared, it most definitely was _not_ delicate. A sting he was familiar with due to alcohol, a taste of what he'd imagine a tree of mourning to be- and possibly some sort of fruit? Grapes?

A shrug- he felt it more than saw the motion, turning his attention back when the arm slid from his person. "I have no idea. Some local drink." Blue eyes turned back toward the refreshment table, glanced back toward Gilbert. "I'm getting another one." With that, he weaved back through the crowd, soon returned with a cup of the substance. Gilbert leaned toward the other, lifted himself onto his toes slightly.

"A _thief_ wouldn't be out here among the crowd, Matthias." A quizzical expression, the cup raised for the contents to be guzzled- _how could he do that_.

"But _we're_ still out here." The expression was soon replaced with a grin, Matthias elbowing his companion. "C'mon, it's a party. Let's have some fun before getting to work." A sigh from Gilbert- more theatrical than genuine- before he raised his own drink, took a swig.

"All right."

* * *

It was quieter up here. The floor below him muffling the sounds of the celebration further. Still, the floor was wood- or other plant matter? He couldn't tell, nor did he desire to try and get a closer look. For all he knew, whatever was composing the floor could be carnivorous, waiting for someone to look close enough. He had heard of places where the plants would wait until someone drew near, strung them up, slowly ate them.

He didn't know if this was one of those places.

Alistair glanced in rooms he passed, carefully easing doors open when they didn't allow enough space to peek in. So far, none of them looked like the office he was trying to find.

 _If I have to go up another floor-_

Another room poked into, the area scanned. Alistair slipped into the room before someone decided to pass by. If earlier was any sort of indication, there was more security around. Just meant more caution was needed- especially upon finding his way back out.

Though he really should be more concerned about not having seen anyone else.

The door was pressed back to the partially closed state he found it in. Might not buy him much time, but it would offer him a sense of privacy.

A window curved along the outer wall of the building, following the bend. He couldn't tell _what_ it was made of- glass wouldn't allow bugs to get caught in it.

He didn't want to think too much about why those were still in the substance.

(Though, somewhere, it registered that it was likely his earlier suspicions of carnivorous plants aiding in the construction were correct.)

Alistair straightened, crossed the room to the desk, which thankfully didn't appear to be built into the floor. Last thing he needed was a hand bitten off while he was trying to locate the file he wanted. ' _File'_ loosely- it would be a collection of relatively thin sheets of metal, engraved and stained to hold the information.

Blueprints, business plans, accounts.

Strange one would keep such things out in the open in their home instead of a safe.

"Looking for something?" He moved before thinking- reaching back, drawing a dagger, throwing it in the direction the voice came from as someone flickered into view.

 _Shit_.

Alistair could tell he had missed, already drawing another weapon, finding the folder of items in the officer's hand.

And he'd be _damned_ if he left without those files.

The one time he didn't bring anything for distraction. _Lovely_. Careful aim- or as careful as he could be, considering he was looking avoid arrest, and it wasn't likely the other would take long crossing the room- another knife thrown, a bid to get Ivan to drop the folder.

It _worked_.

He jumped over the corner of the desk, scampered over to scoop the sheets up, turned toward the door- something jerked at the back of his suit, fabric bunching- a _hand._ Seconds to try and break the grip, arm starting to raise to aid in that- wasted by a catch of breath- _hesitation_.

He didn't recall loosening his grip on the folder. Only another tug on the material he was clothed in, a lack of support under him- oh _god_ the _window_ -

It wasn't even the sharp _cracking_ of glass upon impact.

There wasn't a sound as the substance tore away at the sheer _force_ crashing into it, barely offering any resistance-  
 _He was going to fall._

 _Shit._

Forward momentum- clearing the edge of the building.  
Air- what was that?  
All of a sudden, _gone_.  
Snapped away like a branch.

Arms raised, clasping his head- as much _fear_ as an instinctive attempt to protect himself.  
Breath- shallow.  
Shallow, quick breaths finally- even as gravity pulled him toward the ground.  
Oh _god_ how far had he gone up?  
Too far.  
It was _definitely_ too far up.  
 _Why-_

Finally.  
 _Finally_ the ground was against his back, forcing air from his lungs again- but by the _Deities_ he didn't care. Solid ground was better than falling. Hands went to his sides, attempted to dig into the- moss?- under him. The stretch of a moment, a groan emitted, Alistair turned onto his side, pressed onto his hands and knees, edge of the jacket over his face pulled down-  
Hacking, _retching_ \- but nothing, thankfully, came up.

 _It's over._

But he still needed those files.

A thud nearly absorbed by the ground- he had to _get up_. Swallowing, Alistair stood, turned to face Ivan- he'd have to resort to the gun he had or hand-to-hand.  
The latter might be a better idea.

"I've got him, Arlovski." Alistair couldn't hear the response. It didn't matter. He narrowed his eyes, watched the blond approach. _Get that look off your face_. "Coming quietly now, are you?" He adjusted his stance, flicked his attention to where Ivan was retrieving a pair of handcuffs.  
A familiar heat as a hand was extended- and grabbed at the wrist, larger body pulled closer for the redhead to take hold of the uniform, turning to send Ivan flying into underbrush.

 _Ha._

He had no idea where the officer would land- but a shot fired from somewhere behind him was a more pressing matter. Alistair scooped up the cuffs, attached them to his belt, drew his own gun to return fire.

The 'servant' from earlier. He knew it. "Drop your weapon!" A scoff from the redhead- he wasn't going to leave himself at the mercy of armed opponents. He would, however, fire another pair of rounds before starting toward Mikita- intending to use the salvaged cuffs to restrain the officer.

Not a full restraint, even though the blond's hands were now behind his back, Alistair taking a step back only to swing a foot up to kick him aside- attention drawn to another pair of men running toward the scene. Just his luck.

Hands curled, knuckles cracked-

And he fell forward. It took a moment to figure out what had hit him-

 _Ice?  
Oh Thealine help me_.

Alistair scrambled up, turned- found his leg immobilized by ice crawling at a steady pace past his knee, the other soon in the same predicament. _No. No!_

He reached for the gun again, aimed for the apparent native of Serfine approaching from the tree line- and wasn't able to fire, hands encased in makeshift cuffs.

A frustrated sound, arms lowered only to be raised in an attempt to fend off Ivan and easily pushed aside. Alistair jerking his head away did little to deter the blond from pulling off his goggles, hat- the hood of the jacket. A sigh while he pulled out a handheld device- some sort of computer, Alistair thought- held it up a moment before Ivan turned to help Mikita.

Alistair clenched his jaw, turned his attention to the ice restraining him. _I could get out of this_. It wouldn't be the first time he'd risked combustion to avoid capture.

A beep from the device, Ivan now holding his cuffs in one hand while the other reached to check what had come up, watched by green eyes. Almost amused, the object was put back in its pouch as the officer stepped back to finish, Alistair's attention flicking toward Mikita before he was addressed. "Alistair James Macbeth Stewart, _you_ are under arrest." He could feel the ice receding, preparation for cuffs.

That didn't mean he was going to make it easy, fighting against the pair of officers, struggling to retain freedom- finding himself again encased in ice when he sent Mikita halfway across the clearing. " _Stop."_ A snort from Alistair, even as he felt freezing water seep through his clothes. "You're making this worse for yourself." Like he wasn't already going to prison for theft.

Finally, the cuffs were on Alistair as Mikita rejoined the two, clearly trying not to limp.

The redhead didn't see the concern on Ivan's face, instead offering an expression of amusement to the smaller officer- being rewarded with a fist to the face.  
 _How dare-_

A growl escaped, Alistair feeling the grip on his arms increase to hold him back. "I'm _fine._ " It was snapped toward Ivan- someone must have wanted to get this over with.

It was another struggle to get the thief onto the ship, resulting in Alistair being picked up and carried to one of the first empty holding cells on the ship. He struggled while having his tools and remaining weapons removed as well.

When it was all over, and he was left alone in the small room, green eyes scanned the room- there _must_ be a way to get out of here before they took off. The walls proved to be smooth, small window immovable, the door blending almost seamlessly with the rest of the wall from in here.

Dents soon appeared in the walls, Alistair taking out his frustration on whatever was around at the time- walls, pitiful excuse for a bed. A _cage_. Like some damn _animal_.

He was tempted to remove the armor from his chest by the time he finally leaned back against one of the walls, strip down to his trousers- or even take those off too. He didn't know. All he knew was that he was hot, _feverish_ \- though that was his own fault. The heat showing no sign of fading for the next few hours- or even the next _day_. He would admit that he knew better than to overexert the strength he was capable of. That still wouldn't stop him from doing it.

As the frustration, the _anger_ at being caught drained, it set in that he wasn't going home any time soon.

Hands raked through red hair, Alistair sliding down the wall to a seated position, swallowing against a sob.

 _Arthur_.  
Arthur would be left alone. To worry about the finances, survival-

 _And he would likely watch the trial on the news._

What a way to find out the one you rely on was paying bills by partaking in illegal activity.  
A shaky breath, his forehead rested against his knees, hands clasped over his head.

 _Alistair had failed._

Failed himself.

Failed his brother.

And, most importantly, their _parents._


	4. Chapter 4

Months.

That's how long it had been since Alistair had left. Not like that was anything new. He'd been gone on these delivery trips before- up to a year and a half, if Arthur remembered correctly.  
But something felt _wrong_.

It was a nice day- for once, this season. Occasional clouds rolling past the sun, barely cutting through the chill the day held.

Arthur was still on the university campus, in some coffee shop with Alfred- why he ever thought this was a good idea was beyond him. The rare need for company? Maybe. He _was_ alone for who knew how much longer. A cup of tea was sitting in front of him, beside a notebook opened to notes he'd scrawled over the course of the class he'd been in. He was hoping to get some sort of studying done, despite the other blond's rambling about- whatever he was talking about. Arthur had long since stopped paying attention, green eyes turning from the page for him to pick up the mug, sip the tea.

The hand slamming down on his notes hardly startled him, instead drawing his attention across the small table. " _Dude_ , it's not cool to be studying while hanging out in a coffee shop." Amusement drew Arthur's brows upwards- oh _god_ he was more like his brother than he wanted to admit, to himself or anyone else.  
"Plenty of people study in groups here." A pointed flick of his eyes to a corner near the front of the store, a group seated with their books out. The comment only brought an exasperated sound from Alfred as he sat back, pulling the notebook across the table. "Hey-"  
"It can wait until you get home. Don't you have like perfect grades anyway?" _How would you even know that._ Rumors, probably. Some people in his year seemed to enjoy discussing everyone's business.  
"That's not the _point_."  
"Hey guys." Another chair appeared at the side of the table, another blonde straddling the seat backwards, one arm lain across the back of the chair, the other propped on the table so she could set her chin on her hand.  
"Hey Ames." Alfred offered a grin to his sister, Arthur just offering a nod of his head with his greeting. "Thought you had plans with someone else?" A shrug, Amelia moving to grip the back of the chair, lean back a bit.  
"Group didn't show."  
"Sorry to hear that." Arthur took another sip of tea, set the cup down- though his words elicited a laugh from Amelia. Confusion settled on his face as he turned toward the Usainoran.  
"No you're not. Alfred likes to talk about you." Amelia grinned, sat back up.

Any potential response to the comment was stopped by the screen in the back corner of the shop flickering to life. It only did that when something important was being broadcast over the news. Alfred blinked, glanced back before turning to sit sideways in his seat. " _... Here at the Interg... ourt on Serfine..."_ That would explain the spotty signal. The ice planet still wasn't in close enough range to broadcast clearly. " _... Informed that authori… Thief who has be…"_

Arthur's brow furrowed, waiting for the video to clear enough to make out the figure being led- if one could call the struggling the captive was doing that- across a path barely cleared of snow. " _...de the arrest… After a brief struggle…"_ He swallowed, gripped at the handle of his mug.  
 _That was Alistair._

A scoff came from Alfred. "That's one less criminal off the interplanetary circuit."  
"Arthur?" Amelia appeared concerned, bringing Alfred's attention back to the table. He didn't even think he was _doing_ anything that warranted concern, his attention fixed upon the table, hands curled into fists.  
"That _idiot_." His hands raised, slammed back onto the table- and resulted in the surface breaking under the force, causing those at the table to jump up.

Arthur blinked, slowly lowered his attention to his hands. "... Nothing ever said anything about this."

* * *

"Ivan, I am _fine._ " Still, Mikita flinched away from fingers at his side, reached to push Ivan's hand away. The doctor on board suggested he not do anything for a while, lest more damage be done, but it could be worse.  
"But you got hurt." Ivan pulled his hand back, frowned.  
"You did too." A sigh from the elder, his hand instead going to ruffle Mikita's hair.  
"True." Ivan stepped to the side, sat himself on the bed next to the blond. "It is something that can not be avoided all the time." He went to swing his legs, stopped when his feet thudded against the floor. Oh the problems of being tall.

An arm went around the younger, getting squirming in response. "Ivan, _why_?" Too late, Mikita was stuck in a hug from Ivan.  
"Because you are my brother and I love you." Like it was _obvious_. Mikita wasn't much a fan of such displays, offering a few pats to the other's arm in an attempt to get him to stop.  
It didn't immediately work.

Ivan did, however, leave Mikita alone after a while to rest, opting to head elsewhere to tend to ship-running matters. As well as start working on a final report on the case.

A wander around the ship, ending him in the bridge. "How much longer until we arrive?" A map was pulled up, the ship pointed out- they weren't quite past Matain yet.  
"Could still be a while, unless you want to engage hyper drive." Ivan gave a hum, stared at the hologram.  
"No, not right now." With that, he turned back the way he had come, strode back toward his quarters to start on the report. Even if he didn't get it finished, there would be progress.

This would be a long ride home.

Alistair raised his attention from the floor when the door opened, let out a growl at the officers it revealed. Right. The ship had stopped moving.  
He jerked his arm away when it was grabbed, didn't bother to stand and make things easier on them. He might have settled down since he was arrested, but that didn't mean he would make things easy.

* * *

Alfred blinked at the cafe doors even after Arthur had left. _What_. He looked toward Amelia, a shrug exchanged. "We should probably go make sure he's okay."  
"Yeah…" Alfred turned his attention back toward the front- only for it to be stopped by one of the groups at one of the corner tables. _Oh._

Amelia followed his gaze, slowly broke into a grin before sliding closer to her brother, nudged him with her elbow. "Hey, I'll go on ahead to Arthur's place," blue eyes flicked over from where he'd been watching someone. " _You_ go flirt with the Aquitane and swing by home to grab some stuff for us." Amelia's amusement only intensified at the red across her brother's face.  
"Wha- I-"  
"Have fun!" Amelia ran from the establishment before she could be stopped, leaving Alfred to decide whether he would _actually_ follow her advice or just go home for laundry.


	5. Chapter 5

Alistair did not appreciate having his suit taken. It had taken him a while to track down in the first place. Even less appreciated was being hosed down upon arrival at the prison with cold liquid.

(It was also creepy how those checking him in read off his information. Part of their job, but still. _Creepy_.)

 _Another cell_.

Obviously. He hadn't been expecting anything else. Still didn't mean he'd been looking forward to it. As far as he could tell though, this one was larger than the ones he had been stuck in the past few weeks. Like that was supposed to make him feel better. It was still intended to _restrict_ him, keep him in one place to ensure he wouldn't get into any further trouble, keep him from evading the law longer.

The rough blanket he was given was dropped on the mattress, green eyes merely staring at the bundle of fabric. He should probably work on getting settled in- especially since the door had closed behind him, leaving him _trapped_ in the unit. The temptation to try and pry the door open reared its head, resulting in the red head flexing his hands.

 _It wouldn't help._

Instead, Alistair sat himself on the mattress- he was pretty sure whatever was filling the thing was a foreign gelatinous substance, only _legally_ acquired. Felt the same- or perhaps it was just a water mattress. A strange thing to have in the depths of space, but at least he laughed at the thought.

He was more inclined to think that it was the substance secreted by certain plants on Diant. Whatever it was, it was _definitely_ more comfortable than the mattresses provided on the police ships and even though he had no idea what time it was, he was tempted to lie down and sleep. The thought was more appealing than sitting here with nothing to do.

Alistair turned his attention to where he dropped the blanket on the mattress- only to push the fabric off so he could lie flat. He didn't think he would need that any time soon, nor did he expect to sleep more than an hour or two.

Though the next time he woke up, he found, he had slept longer than expected- two days. He also figured he might have slept _longer_ if someone wasn't trying to wake him up, nearly getting a fist in their face. The attempt landed him partially off the bed with his arm held behind him, but who could blame Alistair? He was in an unfamiliar environment after spending most of his time having to watch himself to keep safe.

Either way, he was soon down in what served as the cafeteria- after a stop by the bathroom- for food. He shouldn't have been surprised that he was hungry.

A large room with tables scattered about, already half filled with other inmates. Off in a corner of the cafeteria, he could detect some sort of game being played. Alistair figured it was some sort of gambling. What they were playing for, he had no interest in finding out. Probably would eventually, whether he wanted to or not.

Alistair settled himself at an empty table, stared at the food on his tray. He was _aware_ it was meant to be one of the traditional dishes from his birthplace, but it didn't _quite_ look right- he doubted there was actually a Caletonyic chef back there anyway. Which also meant it likely wouldn't taste like it should either. He would try everything to find something he actually _liked_ here, he decided. Food was a necessity, whether the taste was pleasant or not.

* * *

Arthur huffed, pulled the door open after finding the quick fire knocking wouldn't stop. "What are you doing?" A brow raised at finding Amelia- of all people- on the other side. He was fairly certain he made it clear he _didn't_ want to be followed home.

"Considering you've never lived alone, Alfred and I figured it'd be good to give you company." Arthur backed away, furrowed his brow when the other stepped in.

"I didn't-"

"I walked _all this way_." He watched her make her way into the living room, flop onto the couch. Arthur still wasn't sure if that was an exaggeration- there _was_ public transportation, after all- or if she really _did_ walk the whole way from the cafe.

Either way, he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. _Great_. "Where's Alfred then?" Arthur closed the door, stepped into the archway leading to the living room. They never bothered to change much of anything about the room since they got the house- a few paintings, various decorative items, trophies from his own time in high school.

He was already feeling like it had been _much_ longer than it had been since then.

"He was going to try and get Timothy's number then go grab some of our clothes to bring over." A grin that most definitely told Arthur that it was Amelia herself who had the idea to push Alfred to get the number followed the answer.

"Timothy- one of the students visiting from Aquitania?"

"Yep!" His response was an amused sound, arms folding as he shifted his weight.

A stretch of silence.

"Do you want a drink?" Seemed a fair enough offer. Especially if she really _had_ been walking. A hum came in response, a few bounces of a foot before Amelia returned her attention to Arthur.

"Have any soda?"

"Er- no. We don't normally drink fizzy drinks." Amelia groaned, slid down until her head rested against the back of the couch. "We have orange juice?" A face was made, a sigh emitted.

"Fine." Arthur nodded, stepped back to head into the kitchen to pour a glass. Though he soon found that Amelia had followed him, upon turning to walk back to the living room. "Thanks." The glass was taken from his hand, only to be set down on the counter so Amelia could sit herself on the surface.

" _Really_?"

Any response Amelia was gearing up for was cut off before she could make a sound by a knock at the door. Arthur let out a huff, trudged around to open the door- and narrowly avoid getting hit with a bag carried by the ghost of an eagle. "Sorry." A sheepish grin from Alfred as he picked up another bag to bring in.

"Did you get his number?" Alfred stumbled to a stop, started to stammer out a response before managing to get _anything_ out.

"Yeah." Amelia clapped from her place still on the counter.

"I'm so proud of you!" Arthur couldn't tell if the comment was genuine or if Amelia was joking.

* * *

A blazer was thrown in the general direction of the pilot's chair- ending up on the control panel- as Gilbert let out a huff, proceeded to unbutton his shirt. "Of _course_ the intergalactic police were there." He heard Matthias lurch in behind him, the door slide to a close as the bundle of fabric that was Gilbert's shirt was also thrown to some corner to be found later.

He was likely to regret balling it up when he found it again. For now, he would go find another shirt.

"Why _wouldn't_ they be?" A loud, _annoyed_ groan came from back where the beds were, Matthias staggering in the direction of the designated bedroom. A hand braced his weight against the frame of the archway opening into the back.

Gilbert was in the middle of pulling another shirt on, the fabric bunched around his wrists. "Because it was just a Diant _engagement party_. There was no _need_ for intergalactic presence." The shirt was pulled up, slipped over his head and settled over his torso, covering the marks sharply contrasting against Gilbert's skin.

"Oh." Matthias furrowed his brow, lowered his attention to the floor. He then gave a grunt, moved away from the wall- nearly tripping over his own feet, causing Gilbert to come to his side to help, even after Matthias had tried to catch himself on the bed.

Still, laughter bubbled from the blond as he was helped onto the bed. "How much did you actually _drink_?" Matthias ran a hand through his hair, gave a hum before putting his hand back on Gilbert's.

"I don't know." The albino let out a sigh, moved to get up.

"Go to sleep." Matthias whined, sat up to pull Gilbert back.

"Noo, come back here." Gilbert furrowed his brow, got his shins against the edge of the bed before Matthias successfully pulled him into the bed.  
 _Right._


	6. Chapter 6

Alistair had no idea how much time had passed, considering there seemed to be a different schedule here. It still felt entirely too early when he was woken.

Days? Weeks? He wasn't sure he cared. All he knew was that Arthur was still at home.

And it something happened, it would be _his_ fault.

(Of course, there wouldn't be anything he could do about it, being nowhere near Usainor.)

Once more in the cafeteria, once more a random dish chosen for dinner. He was starting to think he favored whatever the Aquitanian offering was. At least he could start getting some sort of schedule set.  
Once again, a game being played in the corner. Though it appeared that a blond Niller was hosting the game this time. He still couldn't tell what in the world was being played over there- especially from a seat on practically the opposite side of the room.

Another tray was placed beside his, drawing his attention- first to whatever was on the tray, then to whoever had decided to sit next to him. A woman, shorter than him, blonde. She looked like she tried her damnedest to look nice, despite the lack of clothing variety. It wasn't until she spoke that he identified her as Aquitane. "So _you're_ the thief everyone's been whispering about." There was a smile as she started settling to eat. "Odd choice for a Caletonyic." She stuck something in her mouth, made a face, turned her attention to setting it aside on the tray.  
"Who are you?" Alistair was not in the mood for such games. He wasn't much in the mood for anything, honestly. She sighed, moved hair from her face.  
"Marianne." She _did_ say something after that, _except_ it was in- to Alistair's understanding- terribly butchered Caletonic. Something to the effect of _I am a violin.  
_ "... _What._ " He watched her blink then raise a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, mutter to herself in the same butchered Caletonic. _Oh. Wait.  
_ "I'm a _spy,_ dear." He gave a hum, returned to his food.  
"Really? 'Cause you just said that you were a musical instrument." Around a bite, he continued. "You _really_ should've learnt more languages before you became a spy." He heard an exasperated noise from Marianne, offered amusement of his own.  
"Aren't you _charming._ "

* * *

One thing Arthur found was that the Jones twins actually weren't bad company. Much too loud at times, yes. But not _terribly_ obnoxious overall.

Or maybe he was just used to their shenanigans.

Currently he was pulling out a sheet of cookies that had been requested, setting them on the counter so he could grab a spatula. "Arthur!" He paused in scraping cookies onto a cooling rack, glanced back as footsteps neared the entrance to the kitchen.  
"Hmm?" Amelia appeared in the doorway as Arthur returned his attention to getting the cookies off the sheet.  
"Will you let _go_ -"  
"I need you to help me get Alfred ready for his date." Arthur set the sheet and spatula aside, pulled off his oven mitts.  
"How do you expect me to help?" Amelia raised a hand, prepared to say something- stopped, rested a finger against her lips.  
"I didn't get that far. Uh."  
"I never even said it was _definitely_ tonight." Alfred, now having his hands shoved in his pockets, shifted his weight.  
"Okay and _I_ say it's definitely tonight."  
"That's not how this works!" Arthur watched Amelia reach toward Alfred, who backed away, hands pulled from his pockets to swat at his sister's. "No- _stop_ -"  
" _Alfred Farley_ you are going on a date _tonight_."  
"He might be busy!"

Arthur sighed, shook his head as he watched a small, translucent monkey pull Alfred's phone from his pocket and skitter away. " _Amelia!"  
_ "Didn't Tim come with someone? Maybe I should get their number so we can conspire."  
"You _really_ shouldn't force your brother to do things."  
"Thank you!" Amelia was still on the opposite side of the kitchen, Alfred's phone in her hands.  
"Listen, they've been _talking_ about one for _days_. I'm just trying to help." She fiddled with the device for a few moments, turned her attention to Arthur. "Does your brother…? Have any formal clothes?" Arthur really couldn't blame anyone for doubting he and Alistair were brothers.  
"I think the most formal thing he owns is a kilt." Amelia gave a hum, looked back at Alfred's phone as he reached for it.  
"Hey look, he responded!"  
"Give that back-" Alfred held his sister at arm's length after snatching his phone back, looked at the screen. "... He doesn't text like that."  
" _Ha!_ Whoever came with him wants this to happen too." Amelia gave up on trying to reclaim the phone, turned back to Arthur. "Do you at least know _how_ to find decent formal clothes?"  
"Of course I do."

* * *

For once, Alistair had been convinced not to return to his cell after dinner. Instead, he followed Marianne to one of the recreation rooms.

He really should have been visiting these more often. It would be _much_ more entertaining than sitting around.

He was lead to one of the back corners, currently occupied by a Niller with salt and pepper hair. Marianne sat nearby, patted the ground next to her before turning her attention back to the man. "Hi Gunther." He waved as Alistair sat. "This is Alistair." Gunther turned his prosthetic hand over, a holographic readout appearing from the wrist along with a keyboard.  
 _[Hello]  
_ "Would your brother happen to be here as well? Might as well introduce both of you." Marianne smiled. Gunther shifted in his spot before pointing across the room. The same blond Niller who had been hosting a game in the cafeteria was now flirting with one of the guards. "Of course."  
"That's normal?" Alistair raised a brow.  
"For him."  
 _[Unfortunately. His name is Ansgar]_ Marianne stood, walked off. Alistair was left to sit with Gunther, in a quickly awkward silence. Gunther went back to fiddling with his arm.

Marianne soon returned with Ansgar in tow, both sitting on opposite sides of Alistair. "So! This is the thief that avoided capture for _months_?"  
"Aye." Alistair watched as Ansgar briefly turned his attention to Gunther.  
"Hey, I might have _plans_ later. You good on your own?"  
 _[Stop sleeping with the guards]_ Marianne spoke up before the conversation could go further.  
"I do believe we may be able to make our escape soon."


End file.
